He rose, his hands brushing against her arms as he walked by. “It doesn’t have to be like this. I can still give you everything you want.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what I want.”
Luna wanted to see her family, to have her old life back. But did that include him? Could she get past what he’d done? What he’d said?
The rest of the day passed slowly. At the back of the wardrobe, she had found some of her old books and silently thanked the servants for bringing her something to do. She briefly wondered if the servant who grabbed her belongings had seen the robe Damien had given her, but if she hadn’t been reprimanded for it by now . . .Probably not.
She spent the next few hours rereading some of her favourite books and pacing around her room. Anything to keep her mind off her inevitable doom. It was doubtful the king would keep her in the palace for long; soon, she’d be moved to the dungeons for disobeying.
What would be Grythorn’s future without a unicorn to continue the protection ceremony? Luna’s throat went dry. She didn’t want to think about the innocent people whose lives she would endanger by not transforming.
She looked down at her hands—her human hands—and folded them together. She could try to call forth her magic. If she were a good person, she’d do the right thing, or at least attempt to.
It was then that she realized she had a choice—that everyone, no matter their circumstance, had a choice. They could choose to follow fate’s path . . . or they could resist and endure the consequences of that decision.
She drifted to the mirror, gazing at the hardness she found in her eyes and decided she’d resist fate’s hand; even if it meant death, she would not allow anyone to force her to act in a way she opposed. Sacrificing oneself for the greater good seemed overrated. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she could truly be so selfish as to turn her back on the kingdom she called home.
It was nearly dinner time when a knock sounded on the door. Luna swung it open, and a short red-headed servant stood there. “Good evening, King Hendrix has invited you as his guest to the banquet tonight. Are you ready to go, or do you need a moment?”
His guest?That must mean she was supposed to sit in the glass dome with him and the prince. Seriously, could her luck get any worse? She sighed, a long drawn out exhale before she said, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Breathless, Luna reached the main levels of the palace, where Clyde immediately relayed the king’s strict instructions: No socializing with the court, and impeccable behavior was demanded. He warned that any misstep would embarrass her family. Luna frowned at his monotonous lecture, finding it peculiar that the king would invite her to this banquet while suspecting she might transform into her unicorn form at any moment. Despite his assurances to keep her secret, his actions suggested otherwise. Perhaps he anticipated her transformation would provide entertainment at the banquet. Regardless, he would be disappointed—Luna found even the dungeons preferable to the thought of performing for him, or anyone, as a unicorn.
Once in the foyer, a servant directed her to wait in a hallway adorned with artwork for the royal family’s arrival. Clyde stayed behind at the staircase while William accompanied her. Although her initial resentment towards Clyde had softened, her emotions remained tumultuous, and she was grateful for the respite from his constant presence.
The hum of conversation echoing off the walls made her heart sink. Being the royal family’s invited guest meant walking in with them, but she wanted nothing more than to be attending with her family. Arriving without them solidified how different her life was now.
Prince Kieran strolled into the room, and upon seeing him, Luna curtsied, but he quickly waved her off.
It was an honour to be their invited guest, she reminded herself—all would look at her with envy.
However, the thought of all those eyes staring her down made Luna queasy.
High skies above, she wished she could have somehow turned down the king’s invite. Not only would it feel like she was in a spotlight to sit there, but having any kind of conversation with the king sounded like a nightmare.
The prince glanced up at the painting she had been admiring and nudged her with his elbow. “It’s just a meal.”
“I know that.”
“Then quit looking like you’re about to walk to your death. This meal is bound to be better than your breakfast was . . . and I heard you gobbled that right up.”
Her jaw went slack. “How do you know about that?”
Was he spying on her?
She spun around and confronted him, their noses nearly touching as she glared into his eyes. “I swear to god if you’re why my food was so salty.”
He brushed away an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder, unbothered by her aggressive stance. “You’ll what? Have me thrown in the dungeons? Please. You should be thanking me. I was just being helpful.”
If he was anyone else, she might have slapped him. She whisper-yelled, “Explain to me how poisoning someone’s food ishelpful!”
“Thought I’d help you feel a little less sour about your new residences.”
“By making my food salty?” For a prince, he sure was immature. Her glare deepened to the point that she almost couldn’t see.
Prince Kieran laughed, the sound grating against her ears. In between fits of chuckles, he managed to say, “Can’t be sour if you’re salty.”
Oh, he just thought he was so clever.So funny.
